


Meeting in the Dark

by Artemisausten



Series: When Does a War End? [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Porn, Cheating, Established Relationship, F/M, Feysand readers probably won’t be happy, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mild Smut, Mostly Porn Without Plot, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, but like a tiny little bit of plot, by which I mean Rhys is cheating on Feyre, still pretty mild by my standards though, with Nesta of all people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemisausten/pseuds/Artemisausten
Summary: Rhys and Nesta meet back at her place for a little one on one time together. Don’t hate me for writing these two together, but I’m kind of liking it. Sort of a side story to When Does a War End?, but can be read alone because...it’s mostly just porn without plot.———————-There’s a flash of guilt, a shame that goes deep and washes over him in an unrelenting wave, but Rhys keeps it hidden. “I’ll be back in plenty of time. I promise.” He pushes away from the wall and walks over to Feyre. “You won’t even notice I’m gone for the night.”
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Rhysand
Series: When Does a War End? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040273
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Meeting in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the summary, this was actually intended to be either a follow up chapter for my story, When Does a War End?, or actually even a one-shot for my holiday stories themed around kissing, but it doesn’t really fit with either...so it’s sort of a side story, but is mostly just Rhys and Nesta hooking up?
> 
> Which is weirdly a pairing that I’m kind of getting attached to as I write it. Go figure.
> 
> Also, it’s been a while since I wrote smut, so...whatever.

It’s dark in the bedroom. It’s always dark at Nesta’s apartment, though, shadows seeming to find their way here no matter how brightly the sun beats down on Velaris. Rhys thinks absently that Azriel would probably like it here as he leans down, brushing his lips gently against the top of her hair as Nesta leans her body against him. It’s a strange scene that they’ve come to play out, an exchange that makes as little sense as the many mornings that they’ve spent together afterward. It starts with a lie—one so familiar by now that telling it is second nature.

“You’re leaving again?” Feyre looks disappointed as she eyes Rhys from where she’s standing by the mirror, patting her long hair dry with a towel. 

“It’s only for one night,” Rhys replies, his violet gaze soft as he watches her. He’s careful not to let the lie show through the bond between them, but he’s never had much trouble keeping things from Feyre. It’s always been the other way. “Helion is putting the finishing touches on the spell.”

A spell that doesn’t exist. A lie told and retold as alibi. For a moment, Rhys can feel a small frisson of jealousy and doubt from Feyre as her peach colored lips pull downward. “The gallery showing is tomorrow. And we have a full day of meetings here. And—and Madja’s coming to check on the baby.”

There’s a flash of guilt, a shame that goes deep and washes over him in an unrelenting wave, but Rhys keeps it hidden. “I’ll be back in plenty of time. I promise.” He pushes away from the wall and walks over to Feyre’s towel clad form, droplets of water still slick on her skin. They slip down the curve of her breasts as the towel hangs low on her body, barely covering her bloated stomach. He leans down and kisses her softly. “You won’t even notice I’m gone for the night.”

But there’s a distance there. Rhys can feel it in himself, in the way he looks at her and holds her, in the way his lips touch hers briefly. If Feyre notices it, she doesn’t say anything. The lie is told and Rhys could still turn back, still change his mind, but he won’t.

He’ll smile and flirt with her for a long moment before winnowing away. He’ll work for part of the day. He’ll find his way to the tavern, to the place where no one ever bothers him.

He’ll find his way to Nesta. They’ll find their way here, to the dark, to Nesta’s body pressed against his as she breathes against his neck and his hands move over the small of her back in a slow, generous movement that makes Rhys’ pulse race and Nesta’s body feel warm and alive for once. She can feel the little goosebumps raised on her arms as Rhys’ lips move lower, a soft trail of kisses that move from the top of her head to her temple, to her forehead, to the lids of her closed eyes as she leans her head back to give him access. They’re drifting slowly backward toward the bed, unmade for so many days in a row that Nesta can’t remember when last it  _ was _ made. The longer it lasts, the longer she feels his lips on her body, the more Nesta craves it. She wants to feel him against her.

She wants to feel him inside her.

She wants everything, she thinks, and the moment she realizes it is the moment is the moment her legs bump into the bed and her eyes flutter open. Rhys has paused at the opening of her dress, cut just a little lower than modesty would suggest. She can feel his tongue, hot and moist as the kiss lasts longer than the others, teeth brushing skin. She’s ready to fall back against the bed, ready to pull herself over it in the dark and settle as she tugs at her dress, anywhere she can reach. It doesn’t matter where or how she gets it off, she thinks, she just needs it gone. She wants more, more, more, as she stares up at Rhys’ form in the dark. She wants him to touch her.

He wants to touch her, too. He’s trying not to be too overenthusiastic as he climbs over her, trying not to just tear the damn dress so he can see her cool, pale skin in the dim light of this room. His hands work alongside hers, their breath audible as Nesta reaches for the laces at the side of her dress. It’s tighter than she’d meant to make it, harder to undo than she’d expected. She should have thought about it, should have planned ahead for this when she chose what she might wear today, but it didn’t occur to her that it would be so hard to undress, that she would find herself in this place with their fingers fumbling over laces when she desperately wants—needs—to be out of this dress.

It takes too long, requires too much work of them both. She hears the fabric tear and the cool air washes over her already awake skin before Rhys is moving again, that tongue drifting downward, lips locking around a nipple. Her back arches into the touch and Rhys moves lower still, hands drifting where his mouth will soon follow. She knows where he’s going, can feel the heat pooling between her legs in anticipation. They’ve rehearsed this enough that both Rhys and Nesta know each other’s preferences, knows the way the other thinks, the way the other likes to touch and be touched. What’s left of her dress is pushed or torn out of the way as Rhys makes his way down her stomach, lips and teeth sucking and nipping as he inches his way to her hips, her thighs, working inward. Her lips move in something between a moan and a gasp as Rhys parts her legs and she feels his tongue move over her slit in one long, drawn out motion that tenses and relaxes Nesta’s entire body at the same time. She opens her legs wider as Rhys angles one leg over his shoulder, spreading her for him as he nips and sucks and laps at every inch of her pussy. It’s too much, Nesta thinks, and not enough.

_ Not enough _ . 

She closes her eyes when his tongue dips inside her. Fingers clench and unclench against the wrinkled sheet. Her thighs quiver and her body writhes against his mouth, stomach fluttering dramatically as she takes sharp, steadying breaths. One hand pins her in place before she feels fingers moving over wet skin, teasing for a long moment before sinking inside her, burying and curling and pumping as Rhys teases at her clit with his mouth. She wants this, needs this so desperately—this moment.

This perfect escape.

Forgetting who she is, what she is, who she’s with. It’s just her and this moment, this heat between her legs, this pleasure coursing through her body as gasps and moans and the wet sound of Rhys’ mouth on her clit and his fingers inside her fill the darkness. It’s always too much and never enough and all she wants is to live in that moment forever, to find that sweet release that lets her be somewhere else. She could almost scream as her body climbs and climbs toward that high, her toes curling and her body clenching and her breaths shallow and uneven as she whines.

Rhys doesn’t stop when he feels her cum, clenching around his fingers as they push harder and deeper and his tongue laps at her mercilessly. He knows how this story plays out, knows that Nesta’s eyes have opened and are peering into the darkness, all the tension in her face slackening in a moment of pure, wild abandon. One of the only moments, he thinks, that he’s even seen Nesta as anything other than prim and scowling.

He pulls away slowly as he watches her, her eyes drifting closed again, her body falling against the bed as the pleasure still pulses at her core. He can see the sheen of sweat on her skin in the darkness, catching the little bit of light that’s found its way into this room. He can hear her hum quietly as her breathing steadies and the sound—gods help him—the sound makes his hands unsteady as he pushes himself from his position between her legs. He reaches for his clothes, making quick work of removing the last barrier between them before cupping his cock in one hand. He’s been ready for her since he woke up that morning, this familiar scene playing out in his mind as he sat impatiently through each and every agonizing moment that passed in his day. 

Until he found his way here, to her, to this room. He climbs up the bed between her legs, noticing with a fresh wave of arousal that she parts her legs for him, her hands coming to meet his waist as he drags his lower half over her. There’s a moment when their eyes meet that everything stands still, that they don’t even dare to take a breath and instead just stare at each other shyly. He leans down to kiss her, the touch slow and tentative, barely even making contact at first. Then deeper, harder. Nesta can taste herself on him as her lips part and she feels his tongue brush hers, his teeth catching her lower lip as he pulls away just long enough to meet her gaze.

To silently ask for permission.

And when she doesn’t say no, when Nesta just meets that heated look that seems to glow with lust in the darkness and nods softly, almost imperceptibly, in the silence...Rhys rocks his hips against her and pushes inside her, burying himself in one swift movement that will save them as much as it destroys them.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated as I live for external validation and I could definitely get into writing some more Nesta/Rhys for some reason, it’s growing on me.
> 
> So, you know, showing any interest is always extra motivating.


End file.
